The Forest, Two Days Later
Thunder rolled overhead, but the rain held off. The patrol was stretched too thin — rookies panicking, horses buckling in the mud. Mikasa rode at the head, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the treeline.
Annie broke formation without warning.
Mikasa saw her peel off — like a shadow slipping sideways through the trees — and vanished.
No permission. No signal.
She sent the others forward and turned her horse sharply.
She found Annie minutes later — perched on a moss-covered boulder, calm as ever, her blade dripping titan blood.
"You left your position," Mikasa said, dismounting.
Annie didn't stand. She just glanced at her, unimpressed.
"I killed it before it reached the others."
"That's not the point," Mikasa snapped.
"No," Annie replied. "The point is you don't like not being in control."
The silence after that was cold and dangerous.
Mikasa stepped closer, slow and quiet.
"Is that what you think this is about?"
Annie finally stood — not out of respect, but readiness. She squared her shoulders. "You don't trust me. That's fine. But don't insult me like I'm one of your spineless lapdogs. You didn't even notice the titan until I was already on it."
"I noticed everything," Mikasa said lowly. "Including the moment you decided to disobey me."
The wind stirred between them.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Mikasa stepped in.
Close. Closer than a commander should be. Her chest nearly brushed Annie's, eyes hard, unreadable.
"You're smart," Mikasa said, voice soft but sharp. "But you think that makes you untouchable."
"And you think rules keep you powerful," Annie replied. "But they just make you predictable."
A twitch of something in Mikasa's eyes — not anger. Amusement, maybe.
Or intrigue.
"Careful," Mikasa murmured, voice now like a knife being unsheathed. "You're not as invisible as you think."
Annie's lip curled. "And you're not as untouchable as you pretend to be."
Neither moved. Neither blinked.
And in that silence, it was suddenly clear: they weren't just fighting over orders.
This was something else.
Recognition.
Reflection.
Mikasa turned first — but not out of defeat. Just enough to let Annie see the decision in her eyes.
"Next time you go rogue," she said, pausing, "don't miss."
"I never do."
Mikasa mounted her horse again, not looking back.
But Annie stared at her until the trees swallowed her.
And for the first time in years, she felt something burn under her skin.
Not anger.
Not respect.
Something more dangerous.